


beside you in time

by WhereverMyWay



Series: ☽ ○ sad boys club ○ ☾ [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Blood, Character Study, Horror, Insomnia, M/M, Mental Instability, Paranoia, Suicide, routines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay
Summary: "Come back to me."Things always got bad from hours twenty-four to thirty-six. From thirty-six to forty-eight, however, was more akin to running a chainsaw through an industrial-sized tin of diced tomatoes.There was always one person that kept Changbin grounded, however."Come back to me, Changbin."And that person was Seungmin. Seungmin was always there to guide him back to some semblance of normalcy.
Relationships: Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Series: ☽ ○ sad boys club ○ ☾ [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157111
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	beside you in time

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer: this is a work of fiction!** any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.
> 
> hello. this fic is... a lot. if the depiction of mental instability (specifically insomnia-induced paranoia, depression), suicide, or darker content is something that you're unable to read, please don't continue with this fic.
> 
> also, this is an offshoot from my normal writing style, a lot more experimental. you'll see as you read through. hopefully it makes sense, but if it doesn't, that's intentional.
> 
> inspired by nine inch nails' "[right where it belongs](https://youtu.be/F-jZHMX-CJ0)" and “beside you in time“ (I highly recommend listening to them in order while reading) and my own experiences with insomnia-induced paranoia (kind of).

“Come back to me.

I just want you to come back to me. Not this shell of you, but the whole you.

The entirety of you. The old you.

Come back, Cha—” 

* * *

_ 31 October 2005   
Monday _

—

It was Monday. Monday at midnight. Changbin stared at the bright red of his alarm clock, staring the 00:00 directly in between the empty spaces of the square zeroes. 

It was the staring contest he had every night.

Right on schedule, he lifted himself out of bed, sliding his feet against the cold wood of his bedroom floor, careful to not make any noise so that he didn’t disturb his boyfriend. Quietly, he slipped his way around the floor, out of the open doorway and into the kitchen. He flipped the switch on the wall, the halogen lamp flickering four times exactly before its sickeningly bluish rays illuminated the off-white kitchen walls and the grey cabinets.

Changbin took a step forward: the sink on his left-hand side, the stove on his right-hand side. He stared at the white wall in front of him, his expression empty as he stared at twenty-nine red Xs marked through each day prior. His left hand reached out to the drawer, not breaking his gaze from the calendar as he rummaged through until he recognized the way the red permanent marker felt in his hand. He continued to eye Sunday, as if it was prey, and his permanent marker was the hunter.

He licked his lip, biting it as he removed the cap from the marker, taking a few steps forward until he was face-to-face with his archnemesis: the constant reminder that time was limited, that he couldn’t even fucking remember what day it was without the stupid fucking calendar staring at him in the face.

Two diagonal lines from end-to-end of the damned square.

The 30th of October could join the twenty-nine days prior in hell.

-

Changbin paced around the living room, his footprints brushing over the rug in the middle of the room, leaving worn treads in its fabric. This was his routine as he waited for Seungmin to come home. He wasn’t able to focus on anything for too long before—

_ Time, time, time. _

“Would you fucking shut up? I just told you to leave me alone.”

Before the voices came back.

Changbin knew he sounded unstable as he shouted to himself in the empty living room. He couldn’t stop it, though. The words always left his lips before he could stop himself from saying them.

_ Tick, tock. Tick, tock. _

Things always got bad from hours twenty-four to thirty-six. From thirty-six to forty-eight, however, was more akin to running a chainsaw through an industrial-sized tin of diced tomatoes.

“Just stop, just fucking stop.”

He knew eyes were watching him, he could feel the stares boring into the back of his skull, eyes running all over him. Changbin gripped at the tops of his shoulders, repeating to himself that he wouldn’t turn around — he couldn’t turn around. 

“Go away,” he whispered into the crooks of his elbows as he embraced himself, “go away, just go away.”

_ Why are you here? Fade away, Changbin. _

The creaking of the floorboards startled him, unsure if it was his mind lying to himself, creating something that wasn’t there.

_ Tick—  _

“Changbin.”

But there  _ was _ someone there. The energy that came from the words was different, warmer than the way the other voices that circled his mind. The voices floating in his head were never so— 

“Come back to me, Changbin.”

There  _ he _ was, right in front of his face. Seungmin was tangible, unlike the hallucinations in his head. Changbin hadn’t slept in days, yet Seungmin somehow looked far more fatigued than him.

“I’m so sorry, Seungmin, I just—”

“I know,” Seungmin sighed, gently dancing his fingertips against Changbin’s clammy skin. He was gentle as he pulled the shaking man into his arms, and even gentler as they sank to the ground together. “We need to get you back on your medication. Get you back to who you used to be before everything got bad again.”

“No,” Changbin shook his head against the younger man’s chest, “you know what happened the last time they put me on those fucking pills. I can’t lose myself again.”

Seungmin gently stroked the top of Changbin’s head, shushing him and rubbing small circles in between his shoulder blades. “Okay, okay,” he relented, his voice quiet and calm. “We can talk about it more later. Does that sound okay?”

Changbin nodded once, grabbing at Seungmin’s woollen sweater, hiding his face away from the world. “I just don’t want you to leave me because I’m losing it.”

A quiet chuckle came from Seungmin before he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Changbin’s head. “I’m never gonna leave you, baby. I love you. I’ll be here with you until the end of time.”

“You promise?”

“Always.”

* * *

_ 14 November 2005    
Monday _

—

_ Until the end of time. Always. _

Seungmin’s voice was soft as it echoed in Changbin’s head, pulling him from the darkness. 

It was Monday. Monday at… nine in the morning?

_ Time, time, time. _

Changbin rubbed his eyes, starting to hyperventilate as he stared at the clock. He turned to the side of his bed, expecting to see Seungmin there, but there was nothing but wrinkled sheets in his place. 

“Work,” he muttered to himself. Seungmin had to be at work. It was Monday, which meant that Seungmin was back in the clinic. His breathing calmed down as he mentally prepared himself for another day. He would get through the next few hours until Seungmin got home. 

Changbin haphazardly made his way to his feet, his footsteps padding against the cold wooden floor. His footsteps were so loud, echoing against the empty walls of his apartment. He flipped the light switch at the entrance of the kitchen, letting the halogen lamp flicker four times before it steadied itself.

No.

Changbin’s eyes went wide as he stared at the calendar, red Xs missing from the days prior. He stared over the entire month of November before he ripped the calendar off of the wall, rapidly flipping through every page of every month, trying to check for the marks through his days.

Nothing. 

From January to November, there were no marks, not a single mark through any of the days he had lived through.

_ Tick, tock. _

Changbin dropped the calendar, letting it collide against the floor as he ran to the landline they kept in the living room. Seungmin would reassure him that, yes, the marks were on each day, that this was just his brain playing tricks on him yet again.

His fingers trembled as he entered seven digits into the phone, the number of Seungmin’s clinic the only thing he could keep memorised after all of these years. Changbin called him at least twice a day whenever Seungmin was at work, often many times more.

_ The number you have dialed is no longer in service. _

“What?”

Changbin shook his head, staring down at the phone as a dial tone filled the air. It was possible he had made a mistake, sure, fumbled with the wrong numbers since his hands were shaking, but—

_ The number you have dialed is no longer in service. _

It had to be a lie.

_ The number you have dialed is no longer in existence. _

_ The tick you have tocked is— _

He threw the phone at the wall, the cheap plastic shattering as it collided against the drywall. Changbin screamed at the top of his lungs, tears falling from his eyes as he tugged desperately at his hair. 

Why wasn’t Seungmin’s line working?

He needed Seungmin, but he couldn’t—

“I love you, Seungmin,” his own voice echoed in his ears, the voice trembling and shaking like a small child. 

“Seungmin, come back to me.” Changbin blinked once and saw a wrecked car in front of him, blood splattered against broken glass. 

He stared at the accident, the car totalled up against a brick wall, another severely damaged car in the distance. The car he was staring at was familiar, the shouting of the voice haunting him as he approached. With his breath hitched in his throat, he stepped closer and closer to the front of the car, each step allowing him to make more and more sense of the wreckage behind the spiderwebbed windshield.

“Come back to me,” the voice pleaded again.

Changbin’s voice. Changbin’s very broken, raw voice.

“Seungmin, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—”

Blood. There was so much blood all over the inside of the car, all over Changbin and all over Seungmin. He stepped backwards, nearly colliding against the asphalt as he recoiled in terror, the memories of that day flooding his head.

_ Can’t go through this again. Can’t. _

Changbin looked down to his hands as he shook in fear, his hands caked in rapidly-drying blood that was turning from crimson to brown. The scent of copper lingered in his nostrils as he shook his head, screaming at the top of his lungs.

_ Again. _

_ Come back to me, Seungmin. _

_ Let me go, Seung—  _

Changbin blinked his eyes rapidly until he was back in his apartment, warm arms wrapped around his torso. He stared at the broken plastic littering the floor and simply felt nothing, like the switch to his emotions in his brain had been turned off.

“Come back to me.” Seungmin’s voice was so gentle, so soft in his ear. “It’s time for you to wake up and come back to me, Changbin.”

The switch was ripped off of the wall, there were no emotions to feel anymore.

“Let me go, Seungmin,” he weakly whispered, reaching up to the arms that weren’t there, yet still felt so real.

“Come back to me,” the voice was louder as Changbin lifted himself up off of the floor, haunted by the way that the ghost of Seungmin’s touch lingered on his skin.

He slid his feet against the bare wood floor, unable to register that the smooth texture was cold, only recalling it in memory. Like an empty shell of a human, he drifted into the kitchen, where Seungmin stood in front of the wall, calendar in his hands.

“It’s Monday,” he whispered, pointing at the date. “The thirteenth of November. You wondered why there were no marks, right?”

“Leave me alone, Seungmin,” Changbin’s voice was weak, his voice expressionless as he stared forward.

“It’s time to wake up, Changbin. It’s not 2005.”

_ Can’t go through this again. _

“You know it’s not 2005. You’ve been wading through this year like it didn’t exist.”

Life and death, teetering on the edge of it for a year straight. It was ironic, really, that Changbin only slept on the anniversary of the day that he killed Seungmin.

_ It was an accident. _

“It  _ was _ an accident. You should have been on your medication again.” Seungmin repeated, as if he could hear Changbin’s thoughts. “But every action has a reaction. You know this. You cost me my fucking life.”

Changbin snatched the calendar from Seungmin’s grasp, ripping each page from the calendar and letting them scatter about the floor. Alone he stood, like some fucked up sculpture in the midst of chaos — the chaos of three hundred and sixty fucking five days staring right back up at him, laughing and taunting and driving him insane.

“Come back to me,” Seungmin took a step forward, grabbing the sides of Changbin’s face and pulling him in to kiss his forehead. “Wake up and come back to me, Cha—”

Changbin reached his right arm out, until his hand wrapped around the handle of his chef’s knife, pulling it from the block.

“Make it all stop,” Seungmin taunted. “Come back to me, be with me forever in time, right where you belong, and it’ll stop.”

A tear rolled down Changbin’s empty face as he stared forward, at the empty wall. Seungmin wasn’t there, but it felt like he was there. “I’m so sorry, Seungmin. I loved you so much, I loved you and I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

A cold hand wrapped around Changbin’s hand, helping him bring the knife to his own throat. “I know you are,” his voice was soft, soothing. “And I still love you. So, make it stop. Your time is running out.”

_ Time, time, time. _

“Tick, tock, Changbin. Make up your mind.”

Sweat started to bead in Changbin’s palm as he whispered endless apologies. Tears streamed down his face, his eyes clamped tightly shut as he quickly undid the flesh of his throat with the knife in his hand.

_ Come back to me. _

There was a thud.

_ Come back to me, Changbin. _

The white wall of the kitchen was stained in splatters.

_ Come back— _

The days of the calendar were finally marked in red. 

“Changbin—”

Keys fell to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it to the end, thanks for reading.
> 
> side note: the dates in this fic were important. the ending can be whatever you want it to be, but everything is not as it seems. :)


End file.
